


No One Ever Loved

by remy71923



Category: Black Widow (Comics), Captain America (Movies), Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Drama, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Memory Alteration, Memory Loss, Romance, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2019-09-27
Packaged: 2020-10-19 16:04:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20659946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/remy71923/pseuds/remy71923
Summary: Steve finds himself in a place akin to a constant limbo of finding himself home, calling after his wife, cooking dinner for her and ending the evening with her in his arms. That is, until he finds that he is, in fact, in a constant limbo. What was real, and what wasn't?





	1. A Repetitio

**Author's Note:**

> Trying AO3 for the first time so here's a first fic! Chapter (and fic in general) is inspired by the song No One Ever Loved by Lykke Li. I suggest to listen to it as you read the fic itself.
> 
> Enjoy!

Steve runs a hand through his blonde hair as the autumn wind rushes past him. He is holding a paper bag of groceries in one hand, so he uses the other to pull his coat closer to his body. He takes a turn to the street of their house and fiddles with the keys inside his pocket. He steps into the porch and opens the door, tossing the keys on the glass bowl by the table.

“Nat, I’m home!” Steve exclaims, stepping into the dining area and placing the bag of groceries there. He turns when he doesn’t hear a response, but then he hears the sound of footsteps coming from the backdoor.

“Hey, soldier,” Natasha greets, smiling, and Steve grins, walking over to her. “Didn’t hear you for a second there.”

“Too busy gardening?” Steve asks, wrapping his arms around her waist, and pulling her in to kiss her on the lips. Natasha wraps her arms around his torso and hums against his mouth.

“The tomatoes won’t be planting itself, you know,” Natasha says, raising an eyebrow and smirking. “You’ll thank me soon enough when we have our own food-growing plants in our backyard.”

Steve shakes his head and chuckles. “The lengths you go just so you won’t get out of the house,” Steve says, and Natasha smiles. “The outside world misses you, Nat.”

Natasha chuckles and shakes her head. “I can’t go out, Steve, remember?” she asks, smiling sweetly, and Steve furrows his eyebrows in confusion. “Anyway, I’m starving. What’s for dinner?”

Steve pulls away and smiles as he takes out the contents of the paper bag. “Chicken parmigiana, the way you like it,” he says, as he takes out a frosted pack of chicken, a pack of spaghetti sauce and a box of mozzarella cheese. “And I was thinking of adding in some fettuccine alfredo, just because.”

“Maybe some garlic bread would be nice too?” Natasha asks, raising an eyebrow teasingly and Steve laughs softly.

“Some garlic bread would be nice indeed,” he says, and Natasha grins. “Care to help me, Mrs. Rogers?”

Natasha’s eyes sparkle and she smiles widely. “As long as you don’t let me burn the house down, then the honor is mine, Mister Rogers.” she teases, and Steve laughs loudly.

And so they proceed to cook dinner for the two of them, well, mostly Steve cooked the chicken parmigiana and alfredo, while Natasha prepared garlic bread and distracted Steve by giving him kisses on his neck and on the lining of the jaw, eliciting laughs and giggles. They exchange stories about how Steve’s day went on his usual routine, and about how Natasha had read a book on composting and her mini farm garden.

“Remember how you said I’ve always wanted to grow eggplants in our backyard?” Natasha asks, leaning against the counter beside Steve who hums in acknowledgment as he puts the chicken in the oven. He looks at her with a smile, and she grins. “Well, I’ve decided to grow plums instead, which is why there’s kind of like a plum tree growing in our backyard now.”

“I’ve always known we needed a tree in the back,” Steve says, grinning. “And what made you change your mind?” Steve asks, chuckling. Natasha just lets out a soft smile and shrug.

“I heard plums are seen as new treatments for memory loss,” Natasha says softly, smiling sheepishly. She shrugs and raises an eyebrow. “Just in case we start growing old, you know, and one of us forgets.”

Steve shakes his head and faces Natasha, pulling her closer to his body by her waist. She wraps her arms around his neck, smiling up at him. “You know I will never forget you, Nat,” he says softly, smiling as he tucks some red curly hair behind her ear, and he strokes her cheek with the back of his hand gently. “Not in this lifetime, not ever.” He rests their foreheads together and Natasha sighs contentedly.

“You’ll never forget your family?” Natasha asks softly, her green eyes looking up at his blue eyes, and he smiles, leaning in to press his lips against hers softly.

“Never.” Steve mumbles against her mouth. Natasha hums in satisfaction against his mouth.

“I love you, Steve.” she says as she pulls away, a smile on her mouth. Steve smiles widely and pecks her lips once more gently.

“I love you too, Nat.”

They spend dinner in the living room, cuddled under the blanket, with their plates on the coffee table in front of them as they watch a movie together. The end of dinner had led to a heated makeout session between the couple, that eventually led to Steve having to carry Natasha upstairs to their bedroom where they made love. They completely forgot the discarded dishes downstairs in the living room, their discarded clothes that are spread on their staircase and hallway leading to their bedroom, or the fact that their television was left on. It was just the two of them, expressing their love to each other through murmured words, soft moans in each other’s ears, complemented thrusts and movements and cries of pleasure and declarations of love.

And by the end of the evening, Steve lies on his side and smiles at his wife whose eyes are closed while she is catching her breath, her beautiful red hair splayed over the white pillow as she is lying on her stomach, her face oriented towards him. He reaches for her, clearing the stray hair off her face and touches her cheek with his fingers gently. She opens her eyes and smiles that beautiful smile of hers, the smile that sends warmth in his chest and still makes his heart flutter even after years of being together.

“You’re so beautiful.” Steve says softly, and Natasha’s smile widens. She takes his hand in hers and kisses the back of his hand.

“And  _ you _ , mister, are definitely something else.” Natasha says, chuckling, and Steve laughs softly. He pulls his hand to pull her closer to him. She rests her head on his chest and she traces his chest with her fingers.

“What are you thinking about?” Steve asks, pressing his lips on her hair. Natasha looks up at him and smiles.

“You,” Natasha says. “You and what you do outside, your usual walks, your errands, your job.”

“What about it?” Steve asks softly, smiling down at his wife. Natasha hums and smiles widely.

“Everything about it.” she replies softly. Steve hums and presses soft kisses on her hair.

“You should go out with me too, you know,” he says. “Just one day, maybe you can leave your little farm garden at the back. We can go out in the park, eat at a cafe. We can go visit Clint, Laura and the kids.”

Natasha smiles sadly up at him. “You know I can’t, Steve.” she says softly. Steve furrows his eyebrows at her.

“Why not?” he asks, and she leans up to kiss him softly on the lips.

“Because whether you like it or not, you need those plums immediately, mister,” she says, and Steve frowns. “And you need some rest for tomorrow too.”

“But--”

“Good night, Steve.” Natasha says, raising an eyebrow at him, and he sighs. He smiles and kisses her softly again on the lips.

“Good night. I love you.” Steve says firmly, but softly. Natasha smiles up at him again, leaning to kiss him again once, and then twice, and then thrice. She cups his cheek and smiles widely.

“I love you, Steve, so much.”

* * *

Steve runs a hand through his blonde hair as the autumn wind rushes past him. He is holding a paper bag of groceries in one hand, so he uses the other to pull his coat closer to his body. He takes a turn to the street of their house and fiddles with the keys inside his pocket. He steps into the porch and opens the door, tossing the keys on the glass bowl by the table.

“Nat, I’m home!” Steve exclaims, stepping into the dining area and placing the bag of groceries there. He turns when he doesn’t hear a response, but then he hears the sound of footsteps coming from the backdoor.

“Hey, soldier,” Natasha greets, smiling, and Steve grins, walking over to her. “Didn’t hear you for a second there.”

“Too busy gardening?” Steve asks, wrapping his arms around her waist, and pulling her in to kiss her on the lips. Natasha wraps her arms around his torso and hums against his mouth.

“The tomatoes won’t be planting itself, you know,” Natasha says, raising an eyebrow and smirking. “You’ll thank me soon enough when we have our own food-growing plants in our backyard.”

Steve shakes his head and chuckles. “The lengths you go just so you won’t get out of the house,” Steve says, and Natasha smiles. “The outside world misses you, Nat.”

Natasha chuckles and shakes her head. “I can’t go out, Steve, remember?” she asks, smiling sweetly, and Steve furrows his eyebrows in confusion. “Anyway, I’m starving. What’s for dinner?”

Steve pauses before he pulls away, and Natasha tilts her head in confusion. He pulls away gently, his hands still resting on her hips as he regards her from head to toe. “You’re wearing the same thing you’re wearing yesterday.” he says softly. Blue and white striped shirt with white collar, denim shirt with the same brown belt. Natasha raises an eyebrow.

“I like the outfit, makes me feel good about myself.” she says, smiling softly at him. He looks at her and he hums, a smile breaking out on his mouth.

“You know you look good in everything, Nat.” he says, and she giggles, pulling away.

Steve smiles as he takes out the contents of the paper bag. “Chicken parmigiana, the way you like it,” he says, as he takes out a frosted pack of chicken, a pack of spaghetti sauce and a box of mozzarella cheese. “And I was thinking of adding in some fettuccine alfredo, just because.”

“Maybe some garlic bread would be nice too?” Natasha asks, raising an eyebrow teasingly and Steve laughs softly.

“Some garlic bread would be nice indeed,” he says, and Natasha grins. “Care to help me, Mrs. Rogers?”

Natasha’s eyes sparkle and she smiles widely. “As long as you don’t let me burn the house down, then the honor is mine, Mister Rogers.” she teases, and Steve laughs loudly.

And so they proceed to cook dinner for the two of them, well, mostly Steve cooked the chicken parmigiana and alfredo, while Natasha prepared garlic bread and distracted Steve by giving him kisses on his neck and on the lining of the jaw, eliciting laughs and giggles. They exchange stories about how Steve’s day went on his usual routine, and about how Natasha had read a book on composting, interior design and her mini farm garden.

“Remember how you said I’ve always wanted to grow eggplants in our backyard?” Natasha asks, leaning against the counter beside Steve who hums in acknowledgment as he puts the chicken in the oven. He looks at her with a smile, and she grins. “Well, I’ve decided to grow plums instead, which is why there’s kind of like a plum tree growing in our backyard now.”

“I’ve always known we needed a tree in the back,” Steve says, grinning. “And what made you change your mind?” Steve asks, chuckling. Natasha just lets out a soft smile and shrug.

“I heard plums are seen as new treatments for memory loss,” Natasha says softly, smiling sheepishly. She shrugs and raises an eyebrow. “Just in case we start growing old, you know, and one of us forgets.”

Steve shakes his head and faces Natasha, pulling her closer to his body by her waist. She wraps her arms around his neck, smiling up at him. “You know I will never forget you, Nat,” he says softly, smiling as he tucks some red curly hair behind her ear, and he strokes her cheek with the back of his hand gently. “Not in this lifetime, not ever.” He rests their foreheads together and Natasha sighs contentedly.

“You’ll never forget your family?” Natasha asks softly, her green eyes looking up at his blue eyes, and he smiles, leaning in to press his lips against hers softly.

“Never.” Steve mumbles against her mouth. Natasha hums in satisfaction against his mouth.

“I love you, Steve.” she says as she pulls away, a smile on her mouth. Steve smiles widely and pecks her lips once more gently.

“I love you too, Nat.”

They spend dinner in the dining area, where they laugh and talk about Steve’s day. He starts talking about his day spent with Sam and Bucky, the stories they exchanged over a box of donuts and cups of coffee. He had learned that Bucky had finally proposed to his long-time girlfriend, Wanda, and Sam finally had the guts to ask their mutual friend, Maria, out. Natasha hums in surprise.

“How long have we been pushing for them to be together? Like three years?” Natasha asks, and Steve chuckles, shaking his head.

“Definitely longer than that, I think,” he says, and Natasha smiles. “They miss you, you know. They told me earlier how much they miss hanging out with you, with  _ us _ , the four of us.”

She smiles sadly at that. “I miss them too, Steve.” she admits softly.

“I told them to visit you, and they said they did,” Steve asks, his eyebrows furrowing and his forehead creasing. “Did they come and visit you? I was with them the entire day.”

Natasha quirks her lips and smiles softly. “They did, before they met up with you.” she says gently.

“That doesn’t make sense. Why would they visit when I’m not here?” Steve asks, confused. “Maybe we should invite them here, have dinner with us, just the four of us?” Natasha sighs and licks her bottom lips, pressing it together, as if contemplating what to say next to Steve.

“You know why, Steve.” she says softly, and Steve frowns, shaking his head.

“No, not really…” he says, trailing off, confused. Natasha twists her mouth and sighs, contemplating. Her face suddenly lightens up as she stands and pulls Steve by the hand.

“What are we doing?” he asks, as he follows Natasha to the living room. She turns the stereo on and a soft melody comes in. She places one of Steve’s hand on her waist and takes the other one in her hand, and they move to the music, swaying together. Natasha rests her head on Steve’s shoulder, and he closes his eyes, leaning his cheek against hers.

_ You're the diamond and the gutter _

_ You're the hole inside my heart _

_ You're the one I will remember every night _

_ Before the dawn meets the light _

Steve pulls Natasha closer and tighter to his body. He sighs and presses his lips to her hair. Natasha starts humming the tune and he smiles, listening to her voice and to the song, relishing the feeling of his wife in his arms, as if it were their last dance. He moves his hand to rest on the small of her back and Natasha hums contentedly, pulling her head away to look up and smile softly at him. He smiles back down.

“This is nice.” Steve says softly, and Natasha chuckles softly, nodding.

_ Heaven must to know _

_ Heaven must to lay out stardust in my eyes _

_ Shine my light, close to hurt in my eyes _

_ See it now, purple shrine was never mine _

_ Angel line you fell right now _

“Promise me you won’t forget me?” she asks softly, and Steve furrows his eyebrows a bit.

“Never,” he replies gently, but firmly. “Not ever, not in this lifetime.”

Natasha smiles sadly up at him, as they continue to sway. “Promise me you won’t forget our family.” she continues.

“I will never forget, Nat.” he says. Natasha smiles, leaning up to kiss him softly on the lips before she rests her head again on his shoulder, and they resume their slow dance in their living room.

* * *

Steve runs a hand through his blonde hair as the autumn wind rushes past him. He is holding a paper bag of groceries in one hand, so he uses the other to pull his coat closer to his body. He takes a turn to the street of their house and fiddles with the keys inside his pocket. He steps into the porch and opens the door, tossing the keys on the glass bowl by the table.

“Nat, I’m home!” Steve exclaims, stepping into the dining area and placing the bag of groceries there. He turns when he doesn’t hear a response, but then he hears the sound of footsteps coming from the backdoor.

“Hey, soldier,” Natasha greets, smiling, and Steve grins, walking over to her. “Didn’t hear you for a second there.”

“Too busy gardening?” Steve asks, wrapping his arms around her waist, and pulling her in to kiss her on the lips. Natasha wraps her arms around his torso and hums against his mouth.

“The tomatoes won’t be planting itself, you know,” Natasha says, raising an eyebrow and smirking. “You’ll thank me soon enough when we have our own food-growing plants in our backyard.”

Steve shakes his head and chuckles. “The lengths you go just so you won’t get out of the house,” Steve says, and Natasha smiles. “The outside world misses you, Nat.”

Natasha chuckles and shakes her head. “I can’t go out, Steve, remember?” she asks, smiling sweetly, and Steve furrows his eyebrows in confusion. “Anyway, I’m starving. What’s for dinner?”

Steve pauses before he pulls away, and Natasha tilts her head in confusion. He pulls away gently, his hands still resting on her hips as he regards her from head to toe. “You’re wearing the same thing you’re wearing yesterday.” he says softly. Blue and white striped shirt with white collar, denim shirt with the same brown belt. Natasha raises an eyebrow.

“I like the outfit, makes me feel good about myself.” she says, smiling softly at him. He looks at her and he hums, a smile breaking out on his mouth.

“You know you look good in everything, Nat.” he says, and she giggles, pulling away.

Steve smiles as he takes out the contents of the paper bag. “Chicken parmigiana, the way you like it,” he says, as he takes out a frosted pack of chicken, a pack of spaghetti sauce and a box of mozzarella cheese. “And I was thinking of adding in some fettuccine alfredo, just because.”

“Maybe some garlic bread would be nice too?” Natasha asks, raising an eyebrow teasingly and Steve laughs softly.

“Some garlic bread would be nice indeed,” he says, and Natasha grins. “Care to help me, Mrs. Rogers?”

Natasha’s eyes sparkle and she smiles widely. “As long as you don’t let me burn the house down, then the honor is mine, Mister Rogers.” she teases, and Steve laughs loudly.

And so they proceed to cook dinner for the two of them, well, mostly Steve cooked the chicken parmigiana and alfredo, while Natasha prepared garlic bread and distracted Steve by giving him kisses on his neck and on the lining of the jaw, eliciting laughs and giggles. They exchange stories about how Steve’s day went on his usual routine, and about how Natasha had read a book on composting, interior design and her mini farm garden.

“Remember how you said I’ve always wanted to grow eggplants in our backyard?” Natasha asks, leaning against the counter beside Steve who puts the chicken in the oven. He pauses mid-way and he looks up at her.

“You planted plum trees instead of eggplants,” Steve says, blinking several times, as if he’d been in this conversation with his wife several times, about the eggplants and plums, and how plums can be a cure for memory loss. “It can be a cure for Alzheimer’s, was it?”

Natasha’s eyebrows raise and she nods. “Yeah. Yeah, it is,” she says, and she regards him from where she is, crossing her arms over her chest. “Just in case--”

“One of us forgets when we grow old,” he continues, looking up at Natasha who nods slowly. Steve’s eyebrows furrow a bit. “Did we have...a plum tree before?”

Natasha shakes her head. “Nope, but I know Bucky grew one before when you guys were kids. You told me that,” she says, smiling softly. “See that’s how I knew they were cures for memory loss, ‘cause he told me.”

“Yeah, and he brought one just earlier actually,” Steve says, chuckling. “The ones he let me eat were pretty sweet actually. I hope those are the ones growing in our backyard.”

Natasha laughs softly at that, her nose wrinkling as she nods. “Yeah, I think those were the same kind of plums, the sweet ones. But that still depends on the tree itself when it grows.” she says, smiling, and Steve grins.

They eat dinner while Steve talks about Clint whom he had met up earlier that day. Clint had talked to Steve earlier about the kids, about how Cooper had just started high school, and Lila was on the brink of it, and Nathan had just started elementary school. Natasha’s eyes became watery, but she smiled throughout the dinner as she listened to Steve tell her stories about her best friend and his kids.

“And he wants me to tell you that Laura and the kids miss you terribly,” Steve says. “He said they visited you this morning. I was probably out in the groceries when they did. They left you the daisies that you like.” Steve looks around the dining area. “Did you throw it away?”   
  


Natasha chuckles and shakes her head, wiping away the corners of her eyes from the tears that started to fall. “No, they’re in the garden,” she says softly. “They’re beautiful. You should see them.”

Steve frowns. “I don’t get why he couldn’t just bring the kids over and visit us here,” he says. “Or why we can’t visit them. Maybe we should visit them, Nat, and then we can go out for lunch with Sam and Bucky, just the four of us again just like college. Remember those days, Nat?”

Natasha smiles sadly at him, and Steve sighs, shaking his head. “Please don’t tell me it’s because you can’t leave the house.” he says and Natasha sighs.

“You know I can’t, Steve.” she says and Steve shakes his head in frustration.

“I don’t, Nat,” he says, tears starting to fill up his eyes. “I don’t understand. I don’t get it. Why can’t you leave the house? Why are our friends visiting you in times I’m not here? Why does it feel like you’re so isolated from the rest of the world?”

Natasha moves to the chair beside Steve and she takes his face in her hands, shushing him gently. “Hey,” she says softly, her thumbs moving to brush the tears that are starting to fall from his eyes. He doesn’t even understand why he’s crying, but it  _ hurt _ , some part inside of him hurt. “It’s okay. It’s okay, Steve. I’m here.”

Steve wraps his hands around her wrists and looks at her green eyes. She pulls his face so their foreheads rest against each other, and he sighs, closing his eyes as he feels her breath against his face. He rests his palm against her hands on his face and takes her hands in his. He opens her eyes and looks at their joint hands on his lap. “I don’t know what’s happening anymore, Nat,” he admits, his voice small, soft and afraid. “I don’t know what’s happening, and I’m scared, because it feels like I’m losing you.”

Natasha shakes her head and pulls away, squeezing his hands. “Listen to me, Steve, and you listen good,” she says gently, her voice soft. “You are  _ never _ going to lose me, okay? Never. Not in this lifetime, not ever.” She sighs and lifts a hand to brush his hair from his face. “I know things are getting odd now but it’s okay. Odd is okay, Steve. And no matter what happens, I’m with you, Steve, always with you.”

Steve’s eyes fill with tears again as he leans to kiss her full on the lips, as if he’s desperate, as if he’s going to lose her in his arms anytime soon, and she kisses with the same passion, however gentle and soft was her response. It calms him down, the way she kisses him, and the way she murmurs soft and loving words that soothe him, and the way her hand runs through her hair and down the nape of his neck as she pulls him closer to her, his head resting on her shoulder.

“Stay with me, Nat.” he pleads softly. Natasha presses her lips on his head softly.

“Always, Steve.” she promises softly.

* * *

Steve runs a hand through his blonde hair as the autumn wind rushes past him. He is holding a paper bag of groceries in one hand, so he uses the other to pull his coat closer to his body. He takes a turn to the street of their house and fiddles with the keys inside his pocket. He steps into the porch and opens the door, tossing the keys on the glass bowl by the table.

He knows this part. He’s supposed to call his wife and tell him he’s home, but he doesn’t. He places the paper bag of groceries on the dining room table and walks through the living room and towards the backdoor, where he sees Natasha, clad in her blue and white striped shirt with white collars, and denim jeans with her brown belt, standing there, looking at him. But she doesn’t look mad, nor sad, she looks…

Peaceful.

She has a serene smile, a beautiful serene smile, that he only ever saw during their wedding day, and a few key moments afterwards. It’s the smile that reaches her eyes, and makes her green eyes sparkle. It’s so beautiful that it breaks his heart, and his vision starts to blur as tears gather in his eyes when he steps forward, and she does the same.

“Welcome home, soldier.” she greets, her voice light and beautiful,  _ so _ beautiful, that it pains his heart. Tears start to flow as he takes another step forward, and he looks at her, from her beautiful red wavy hair down to her small feet that are wearing her usual white sandals. He takes another step as the tears start flowing faster, a noise coming from the back of his throat as he places his hands on her shoulders, giving them a squeeze, before moving to touch her face, cupping both her cheeks. Natasha responds by smiling, her own eyes filling with tears as well as she wraps her arms around his waist, pulling herself closer to him.

“What’s happening, Nat?” Steve asks, his voice barely above a whisper. He closes his eyes, his hands shaking as tears start to flow. He leans his forehead against hers, and he hears her sigh, feeling her breath against his skin. He sighs shakily. “Is this real?”

“No, it’s not, Steve.”

And he opens his eyes, and he finds himself in a white room, where he is wearing a white hospital gown. He sits up from his bed and looks around. He finds a bedside table with a glass of water, two chairs against the wall beside the table and a small round table in the middle of the room. There are no windows, and there is only one door.

“Nat?” he calls, but there is no response. There is no Natasha, and a heavy weight starts to fill his chest.

He hears the door open. “Nat?” He turns but he finds Bucky instead, accompanied by a blonde woman in blue scrubs. He sighs and closes his eyes as he hears Bucky murmur something and the door closes. Bucky lifts a chair and sets it beside the bed.

“Hey man, how are you holding up?” he asks. “You saw Nat?”

Steve shakes his head. “I thought it was Nat.” he says quietly. Bucky sighs and leans back in his chair. Steve looks at him and regards his best friend.

“They, uh, called me in here, because it’s your third year in the hospital,” Bucky says gently, and Steve frowns slightly. “They said the treatment probably worked by now, since they promised us three years before you’re more or less stable now. They wanted a close friend to talk to you, someone you’re comfortable with. So, yeah, and I guess it worked, you know, the treatment.”

Steve blinks at him. “Alright, probably should’ve started with the basic ones,” Bucky says, and he leans forward, clasping his hands together and resting his elbows on his knees. He looks up at his best friend. “Today is November 28, 2019, a Thursday, and it’s...” He looks at his watch. “It’s 8:35 in the morning. Your name is Steven Grant Rogers and you’re 37 years old, and you’re in the Stark Mental Facility. You’ve been here for three years, Steve.”

Steve shakes his head. “No,” he says softly. “No, I was home. I was with Nat.”

Bucky sighs. “You got married to a woman named Natasha Romanoff five years ago, but you’ve been best friends with her since we were in college. Remember, it was her, you, me and Sam?” Steve nods, and Bucky nods slowly as he purses his lips. “And four years ago, you guys had a son.”

Steve’s eyes widen. Slowly, he remembers holding Natasha in his arms when she told him she was pregnant. He remembers bringing her breakfast in bed, and his hand resting on her swollen baby bump as she eats her pancakes happily. He remembers speed driving to a hospital and running into the delivery room, just in time as Natasha starts pushing, and he remembers the string of curses she started screaming when she starts pushing. He remembers a red-haired, and blue-eyed baby boy in his arms, and a tired-looking Natasha who is smiling so brightly as she watches them. He remembers the baby boy bouncing in his arms and laughing as they watch Natasha singing and dancing in front of them.

His eyes slowly fill with tears. “James.” he whispers his name. He had forgotten him, all the three years, he has been with Natasha, and he has forgotten his son--their son--their James. He closes his eyes and allows a few tears to fall.  _ You promise to never forget your family? _ How many times had Natasha asked that in a span of three years? He had only remembered as of late, that he was asked twice, before he responded,  _ “Never.” _

But he did.

“James Joseph Rogers,” Bucky says softly, nodding, and Steve lets out a choked sob. How can he forget? “He’s four years old now, turned four last May 19th.”

Steve opens his eyes and looks at his best friend, and Bucky sighs as he looks at Steve’s red eyes filled with tears. “Where is he?” he asks. Bucky purses his lips together.

“He’s with Clint and Laura,” he answers softly, and Steve lets out a breath of relief. “Should I continue?” Steve nods, and Bucky sighs. “When you said you were with Nat for the last three years, Steve…”

“She wasn’t real.” Steve continues softly, his voice barely above a whisper. Bucky nods.

“Three years ago, November 25, 2016, three days after her birthday, Natasha was hit by a car,” Bucky says softly, and Steve closes his eyes as a wave of pain shoots through him. “It was at night, and she was walking back home when a car with a driver who was texting steered out of control and hit a tree. She was in between the car and the tree.”

Bucky pauses, and Steve starts sobbing loudly, slowly remembering the night. Steve was cooking dinner while James was playing on the mat in their living room. He was expecting Natasha to come home from work anytime that night, as he couldn’t pick her up from work. He was planning to surprise her with her favorite dish. The crash happened a few blocks away from their house, and when the police and ambulance sirens started to wail, he looked out just in time when two of his neighbors came up to his porch. He was holding James in his arms, and he was crying for his Mommy.

_ “There’s been an accident,” _ his neighbor had told him, albeit reluctant to really say anything at first.  _ “I’ll...I’ll take care of James, but they need you there.” _

And so he gave James to the old woman and walked over to where a crowd started to gather, and where the ambulance is. He saw a flash of red hair, and he started running, his heart thumping loudly and fast, and he panicked when he saw the flash of red hair being laid on a gurney.

He pushed through the crowd, and he cried loudly when he saw Natasha--his Natasha, his wife, the mother of their son--on the gurney, pale and unconscious with blood running from her mouth and torso. He started shouting for her name, as he took her hand in his, and he cried louder when it was cold. He ran a hand through her hair, kissed her forehead, the tip of her nose and her lips, and he tasted her blood, and he felt sick, but he didn’t want to leave her alone. He murmured loving words to her, begging her not to leave him, to stay strong, to hold on and stay alive.

He remembered the ambulance ride, how he wouldn’t let go of her hand even when the doctors and nurses inside the ambulance tried to pry it away so they can do their job. He watched as she opened her eyes, and landed on him, and she gave him one last smile; a weak one, but still very beautiful, so beautiful like the rising run, before a tear slipped from her eye and the heart monitor let out a loud beep.

When they arrived in the hospital, she was already dead.

And everything came crashing down as Steve lets out a loud cry, and as Bucky ducks his head, wiping a few tears that have fallen from his eyes as well. He listens to Steve sob, cry out Natasha’s name, and he closes his eyes.  _ Damn it, Nat, this never gets easier _ , he thinks to himself. He looks back up at Steve, still sobbing, but he attempts to wipe off the continuously flowing tears from his eyes using the sleeves of his hospital gown.

“She felt real, Buck,” Steve says, his voice shaking and breaking. “She felt real. All those times, she felt real. All her stories, the way I held her, the way she looked…”

“They call it complicated grief, and you were diagnosed with major depression afterwards. That’s when...that’s when you started seeing her,” Bucky explains gently. “You associated all your meetings with her with your last moments with her.”

Steve furrows his eyebrows as he catches his breath from his crying. “Blue and white striped shirt, denim pants and white sandals.” he says, and Bucky clenches his jaw, but he nods.

“That’s what she was wearing when she died.” Bucky says silently. Steve’s eyes slowly started filling with tears.

“I cook for her,” he says. “Everyday. Chicken parmy with alfredo, and she prepared the garlic bread.” Bucky nods.

“Your neighbors said that’s what you were making when you were waiting for her that night. They said that was Natasha’s favorite.” he answers softly, and Steve closes his eyes yet again.

“The song…” Steve whispers. Bucky hums a tune, and Steve opens his eyes, nodding.

“She loves that song,” Bucky says, smiling a bit. “She used to sing it all the time too, but it was your song in your wedding, punk.”

And he remembers that too, slowly, now. He remembers seeing her in her beautiful white gown, her red hair lined with small pink and white flowers, her huge smile and her twinkling green eyes. He remembers her laughter when he twirls her around, and the feel of her head against his chest, her lips against his. He remembers her voice humming to the tune.

_ You're the one I will remember every night _

_ Before the dawn meets the light _

“She’s always wanted a garden,” Steve murmurs, and Bucky nods. “She’s always wanted to plant tomatoes, and plum trees.”

“She likes plums,” Bucky says, nodding. “She told us that, as a fun fact when we first met her in college. I told her it was nice since it was said to be a cure against memory loss.” Bucky raises his hand to the back of his neck. “We’ve been feeding you plums for days now, to help with the memory loss.” Steve sighs and runs a hand through his hair.

“Did you go to her?” Steve asks, looking at Bucky. “Two days ago, on her...her death anniversary, did you go see her?”

Bucky nods. “I was with Sam and Wanda.” he says softly. Steve nods.

“I remember her telling me he visited you,” he says. Bucky straightens up a bit and his eyes start filling with tears again. “She told me. She saw you, and maybe she was real in that moment, Buck.”

“She never left, Steve.” Bucky says, and Steve sighs, closing his eyes.

“Except she did, Buck.” he says quietly.


	2. A Remembrance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who commented on this work! I'm also working on other Romanogers fics so if you have time, please do check out my dashboard for other works (so far I have one apart from this, but I'll be sure to upload more when I get more inspiration).
> 
> Hope you enjoy this second chapter! Leave kudos and reviews! :)

The leaves crunch under his shoes as he walks. A strong and cold wind passes and he uses his free hand to clutch his coat closer to his body. Winter is nearing, and he can feel it in the cold wind that passes on his face. He clutches the bouquet of pink flowers in his hands and stops in front of a tombstone.

Natalia Alianovna Romanov-Rogers

November 22, 1984 - November 25, 2016

Loving wife, mother, daughter, auntie, friend

Even now as he stares at the grave of his wife, even as his vision starts to blur because of the tears gathering in his eyes, and the pain is slowly welling up in his chest, he still refuses to believe she is dead, even if it has been three years, and even if he is now fully aware that her death was what led him to missing three years of memories, instead gaining three years worth of delusion and hallucinations of a dead wife.

But if it bought him more time to be with her, call him crazy, and call him a tad bit selfish, but he was thankful for it. All those years, she felt real as he held her in his arms, watched her smile, heard her laugh, and seeing her grave now, even as three years have passed, still makes it feel like she had died only a few days ago, and not a few years ago. Perhaps when she died, he prayed, and asked for more time with her, and he did, even if it was in the most twisted way possible in the form of hallucinations inside a mental facility. He has been holding on to his grief for years, turning them into scenes of coming home to his wife, but now that he is more stable, his grief is fresher and realer than ever, and heavier now that the reality is finally settling in.

His wife is gone. Natasha, the love of his life, is gone. He has to live with that for the rest of his life.

He doesn’t even remember the funeral, or any part of the service. He’s not quite there yet in regaining his memories, but he’s sure it was beautiful. A beautiful service for his beautiful wife. He sits down in front of the tombstone on the grass and lays the flowers on it. He presses two fingers on his lips and rests it where her name is etched on the stone. He takes a shaky breath as another cold wind passes.

“Hey, Nat,” Steve says softly, smiling sadly at his wife’s tombstone. “I’d like to say it’s been a while, but it really hasn’t, not for me at least. But I guess I haven’t been visiting you physically, since I was stuck in the mental facility for three years. I figured you know that already.”

Steve sighs. “I just got off the facility a week ago, and now I’m living in an apartment next to Bucky and Wanda’s,” he says softly. “They offered me the spot since the person living there moved out, and I think it’s also ‘cause they wanna keep an eye on me in case anything happens. I’m just settling in and all that, since they moved all my things away from our house, and so I’m just fixing my things in the new flat. I know I’m gonna try to start and live a normal life, but they also wanted me to check in with a therapist thrice a week, and I think that’s okay.

“I’m going to Clint’s today, to visit James,” he says, and his voice breaks at the end. “I haven’t seen him in a long while, Nat, and I’m sorry. I’ve been meaning to visit since I got off, but they advised me not to at first, not unless I take a week into being stable and without episodes. I’ve been stable for a week now, so I guess the treatment they gave me in the facility worked, and they made me fit enough to meet our son again.

“Clint visited on the day I left the facility, and he showed me a picture,” Steve smiles and laughs softly, shaking his head. “He’s not a baby boy anymore, Nat. And he’s so beautiful, our little boy. He’s got your nose, and he most definitely has your smile. It’s the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen, Nat, and I know you’ve seen it. I know you see him everyday from up there.”

A tear escapes his eyes and he wipes it with the back of his hand. “I know I promised you that I wouldn’t forget about him, but I did,” he says softly, shamefully, and he feels his heart constrict. “I’m sorry, Nat. I’m sorry I forgot about our James. I know you would want me to be a good Dad to him, to take care of him, but I didn’t, and I’m sorry, Nat. I really am.” Tears start flowing continuously and he sniffles, wiping away the tears with the sleeve of his coat. “But I promise this time, I will be a good Dad to him. I’ll be there for him from this day onwards, Nat. No more missing any moments with our little boy. I miss him so much, and I know you miss him too, and I’ll make sure he knows that.”

He takes a deep and shaky breath and looks at the tombstone again. “And I’m sorry I wasn’t there, Nat,” he says softly. “I’m sorry I didn’t get to pick you up from work, and I’m sorry that I didn’t see you immediately.” His voice breaks and he lets out a choked sob, and he composes himself again. “I could’ve saved you. Maybe you would have still been alive, and none of this wouldn’t have happened. You would still be holding James now, and I would be making breakfast, and maybe in the future we could’ve had another kid, a big family like you’ve always wanted...” He trails off and takes a shaky breath, wiping away the tears that have fallen from his eyes. “I hope you can forgive me, Nat. Forgive me for not being there, for not picking you up, or saving you. You deserved to live a longer and happier life...

“But I hope you’re doing alright there, and I hope you’re happy, laughing and smiling up there. Say hi to my Ma for me, alright? And I love you, okay? I love you so much,” Steve says, letting his fingers touch her engraved name on the tombstone. “And James loves you too, but I’m sure you know that already. Stay with us all the time, alright?”

A white butterfly perches itself on top of the tombstone and Steve lets out a soft chuckle. “Even in the afterlife, you’re still as beautiful as ever.” he says softly. He stays in front of the tombstone for a few more minutes, just in a comfortable silence, and as the butterfly flew away, he stands up as well and watches the butterfly fly out of his sight.

“I’ll see you soon again, alright?” Steve asks softly, looking down at the tombstone. “I’ll make sure to bring James along with me next time, I promise.”


	3. A Reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter for this work! Thanks for everyone who supported this, and those of you who commented so kindly. For my other works, check out my profile. And I'll be sure to upload more as time passes.
> 
> But for now, here it is! A short and sweet chapter for the ending of this work.

Steve takes a train to where the Bartons are living, clutching his coat closer to his body as he leans against the pole in the train. He’s going to see his son, finally, after three years, and after years of not remembering him. He feels bad, guilty, but he can’t allow himself to wallow in those feelings when he has a duty to fulfill as a father. He is more determined to show his son how much he is loved by both of his parents, and he can’t let his own grief get in the way with that, especially as his son also lost his mother when he had lost his wife.

Clint had told Steve upon his release from the facility that he’s free to visit James anytime as soon as the doctors say it’s fine, and he is also free to get James back whenever the doctors also find him fit to do so. Clint had told him that James grew up hearing bedtime stories of his parents, and they never allowed a day without showing James a picture of Steve so he would recognize him when he comes to visit. Steve found out that they also show James pictures of Natasha, but explained to him that she had gone with the stars and planets now, so he only had his Dad left. Steve figures it would be better that they had explained it for him, otherwise he wouldn’t be able to know just yet how to explain to their four-year-old son that her mother had died years before.

He walks out as soon as the door of the train opens, and walks a few more blocks to where Clint said they live. He sighs and steps on the front porch, pressing the doorbell.

“Hey man, you made it,” Clint greets, opening the screen door and embracing Steve, patting his back. “Hope you didn’t run into trouble looking for the house.”

Steve chuckles and shakes his head. “No, uh, I visited Nat’s grave first. I think that’s why I got a bit of a delay,” he says quietly and Clint nods understandingly. “Is, uh...Laura there?”

“Yeah, she’s with the kids, come in.” Clint steps aside and Steve enters. Clint walks over to the living room and Steve follows closely behind him.

“Honey?” Clint calls. “Steve’s here.”

Sets of footsteps come running down the stairs and Laura comes down first. “Steve, hi,” she says, smiling as she walks over to embrace Steve. He smiles and sighs and embraces back Laura. “How have you been? Holding up alright?”

“Yeah, everything’s been fine so far.” Steve replies softly, smiling. He then spots a redheaded boy slowly coming down the stairs in small sure steps, his hand being held by Nathan, who had grown so much since the last time Steve had seen the boy.

“Hey, Uncle Steve.” Nathaniel greets and Steve smiles at the boy, whose namesake was his wife. The little boy--his little boy, James, hides behind Nathaniel, and the older boy, murmurs something encouragingly, gently pulling the little boy to his side.

Steve crouches down and meets James in the eye, smiling at the boy. James’ red hair is mussed, his blue pyjamas wrinkled, probably still from his sleep. He rubs his eyes with his free hand and blinks twice at Steve before looking at his blue eyes, those that mirror his.

“Hey, buddy,” Steve greets softly, smiling. “I don’t know if you remember me, but it’s me, Daddy.”

James looks up at Nathaniel who nods encouragingly at him, gently letting the boy’s hand go. James then looks at Steve and he walks over to him, wrapping his small arms around his neck, and Steve wraps his arms around the boy’s body, letting out a breath of relief as he holds his son in his arms after years of separation. His eyes start filling with tears slowly as he lets out a breathy laugh, pressing his lips on the boy’s soft hair.

“Miss you, Daddy.” James murmurs against the crook of his father’s neck and Steve pulls away gently, smiling as he smooths the boy’s cheek with his thumbs.

“I missed you too, little guy,” he says softly. “So much.”

And Steve smiles when he sees James smile, as he is appalled by how much he sees Natasha in the way their son smiles, and the way his nose wrinkles a bit at first whenever he does so, much like how Natasha does when she genuinely gives him a smile. While his features reflect Steve’s own, when he smiles, Steve just knows that the smile mirrors Natasha’s, and while he still feels a faint pain in the heart whenever he is reminded of her, his heart still flutters and warmth spreads in his chest knowing that Natasha had given a part of her to James. And that she will forever remain in the hearts of her boys.

  
_ And no matter what happens, I’m with you, Steve, always with you. _ He still remembers her words in one of his episodes with her, the day before he broke free of his hallucinations. Those probably weren’t hallucinations after all, rather Natasha really speaking to him in his heart, as projected by his mind. And as he looks at his son’s smile and hopeful eyes, he just knows that he believes her.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos greatly appreciated! I hope you cried as much as I did when I was writing.


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